Read Online Dandelions on the Wind by Mona Hodgson - Free Book Online
Authors: Mona Hodgson
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the bottom shelf of the bookcase.
“PaPa, did you bring Miss Maren a present too?”
“I did.” The words were out before he could stop them.
“You did?” Miss Jensen blinked feverishly. Was she trying to focus her vision, or had he made her nervous? “You shouldn’t have. I don’t even know—”
“Yet, you’ve cared for my daughter very well.” Woolly reached into his pocket and handed Miss Jensen the other paper-wrapped package.
Seated on the sofa, she carefully pulled the paper layers back as if it were an onion. Her lips pressed in concentration, she raised the gift into the light.
Gabi sat beside her. “It’s a whistle,” she said. “That’s a lovely gift too.”
Miss Jensen nodded while Woolly’s insides tightened. He shouldn’t be giving her gifts at all. She barely knew him.
He paced from the sofa to the piano and back. “I thought.” He stopped in front of her. “It’s in case some lunk should come trespassing and startle you in the barn. I would come running.”
Her face turning a lovely shade of pink, Miss Jensen draped the silver chain over her open hand. She clasped the copper whistle with her other hand and looked at him with a focused gaze that could pierce the darkest night.
Woolly watched as she lifted the chain over her head, the whistle resting on her lace bib. She held the copper trinket in her fingers. “Thank you. It is a lovely and … practical gift.”
He hoped Miss Jensen never needed to use the whistle to summon help, but he felt better knowing she was wearing it around her neck.
Woolly smiled. “You’re welcome.” He had to find the strength and means to stay on the farm. Despite Mother Brantenberg’s objections, she needed him. So did his daughter, and even Miss Jensen.
Eight
S unday morning, Woolly drove the wagon to Immanuel Lutheran Church with Gabi singing a happy song beside him. The reins slack in his hand, he directed Boone and Duden onto Salt River Road. Behind him, Mother Brantenberg chattered to Miss Maren about various women in the quilting circle.
Seemed wrong not to go to church, but going didn’t feel right either. At the breakfast table, Gabi asked if he was driving the wagon or if Oma would still drive. Naturally, they’d assumed he would join them. It’s what the Brantenberg family did on Sundays, even when it no longer felt like a family.
Mother Brantenberg announced that he would certainly drive, and he couldn’t say no. Didn’t know if he could ever again deny either of them. After his mother-in-law stomped off to the garden Thursday evening, he was nudged by a sudden memory of her asking him to stay after Gretchen died. The very next day with nary a word, he’d left her alone with his newborn.
“Dear, are you all right?”
Certain the endearing term wasn’t meant for him, Woolly glanced at the backseat. Mother Brantenberg rested her gloved hand on Miss Jensen’s arm. Concern laced her gray eyes.
“Oh. Fine. Yes. Thank you.” The tentativeness in the young woman’s voice didn’t pair well with her answer.
“You’re as quiet as a church mouse. You were all through breakfast too.”
“Just thinking, I suppose.”
His guess was that her thoughts were of family and Denmark. Now that he was here to help Mother Brantenberg with the farm and Gabi, the young woman might think of returning home. And if she weren’t here, his help—his presence—on the farm may be better appreciated.
Miss Jensen sighed. “Also, I’m enjoying the ride and the cooler temperatures. It’ll make the wheat harvest a more pleasant task tomorrow.”
“At the farm?”
“You didn’t tell him?” Miss Maren’s voice rose.
He looked at Mother Brantenberg.
“With your sore arm and all, I saw no point in it.”
“So, it’s my arm causing you to treat me like an outsider?”
No answer came. Even Gabi fell silent on the last mile into town.
As he reined the horses to a stop at a hitching rail in front of the brick church, he was glad
“PaPa, did you bring Miss Maren a present too?”
“I did.” The words were out before he could stop them.
“You did?” Miss Jensen blinked feverishly. Was she trying to focus her vision, or had he made her nervous? “You shouldn’t have. I don’t even know—”
“Yet, you’ve cared for my daughter very well.” Woolly reached into his pocket and handed Miss Jensen the other paper-wrapped package.
Seated on the sofa, she carefully pulled the paper layers back as if it were an onion. Her lips pressed in concentration, she raised the gift into the light.
Gabi sat beside her. “It’s a whistle,” she said. “That’s a lovely gift too.”
Miss Jensen nodded while Woolly’s insides tightened. He shouldn’t be giving her gifts at all. She barely knew him.
He paced from the sofa to the piano and back. “I thought.” He stopped in front of her. “It’s in case some lunk should come trespassing and startle you in the barn. I would come running.”
Her face turning a lovely shade of pink, Miss Jensen draped the silver chain over her open hand. She clasped the copper whistle with her other hand and looked at him with a focused gaze that could pierce the darkest night.
Woolly watched as she lifted the chain over her head, the whistle resting on her lace bib. She held the copper trinket in her fingers. “Thank you. It is a lovely and … practical gift.”
He hoped Miss Jensen never needed to use the whistle to summon help, but he felt better knowing she was wearing it around her neck.
Woolly smiled. “You’re welcome.” He had to find the strength and means to stay on the farm. Despite Mother Brantenberg’s objections, she needed him. So did his daughter, and even Miss Jensen.
Eight
S unday morning, Woolly drove the wagon to Immanuel Lutheran Church with Gabi singing a happy song beside him. The reins slack in his hand, he directed Boone and Duden onto Salt River Road. Behind him, Mother Brantenberg chattered to Miss Maren about various women in the quilting circle.
Seemed wrong not to go to church, but going didn’t feel right either. At the breakfast table, Gabi asked if he was driving the wagon or if Oma would still drive. Naturally, they’d assumed he would join them. It’s what the Brantenberg family did on Sundays, even when it no longer felt like a family.
Mother Brantenberg announced that he would certainly drive, and he couldn’t say no. Didn’t know if he could ever again deny either of them. After his mother-in-law stomped off to the garden Thursday evening, he was nudged by a sudden memory of her asking him to stay after Gretchen died. The very next day with nary a word, he’d left her alone with his newborn.
“Dear, are you all right?”
Certain the endearing term wasn’t meant for him, Woolly glanced at the backseat. Mother Brantenberg rested her gloved hand on Miss Jensen’s arm. Concern laced her gray eyes.
“Oh. Fine. Yes. Thank you.” The tentativeness in the young woman’s voice didn’t pair well with her answer.
“You’re as quiet as a church mouse. You were all through breakfast too.”
“Just thinking, I suppose.”
His guess was that her thoughts were of family and Denmark. Now that he was here to help Mother Brantenberg with the farm and Gabi, the young woman might think of returning home. And if she weren’t here, his help—his presence—on the farm may be better appreciated.
Miss Jensen sighed. “Also, I’m enjoying the ride and the cooler temperatures. It’ll make the wheat harvest a more pleasant task tomorrow.”
“At the farm?”
“You didn’t tell him?” Miss Maren’s voice rose.
He looked at Mother Brantenberg.
“With your sore arm and all, I saw no point in it.”
“So, it’s my arm causing you to treat me like an outsider?”
No answer came. Even Gabi fell silent on the last mile into town.
As he reined the horses to a stop at a hitching rail in front of the brick church, he was glad
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